


Delirium

by pintpotjudas



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mild Angst, ill Bertie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 00:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pintpotjudas/pseuds/pintpotjudas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bertie recovers from a bout of flu and discovers all is not well in the world...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delirium

After a miserable week in bed with a virus I awoke to find Jeeves soothing the young master’s fevered brow with a cold compress. The c.c on the y.m’s f.b felt utterly fantastic and I couldn’t help but say so.

 

 “I am glad you’re back with us, sir.” He said, a slight smile about his lips.

 

“Ah yes, my apologies, Jeeves, please disregard any fevered nonsense I’ve blithered at you.”

 

Jeeves isn’t a chap given to shows of emotion but I swear he seemed to ...deflate a little.

 

“Very good, sir.” He replied, averting his eyes from this Wooster’s gaze.

 

There was definitely a certain thingness about his tone, and I got the distinct feeling I’d managed to put my sizeable foot in it. 

 

“Jeeves? Is something the matter?” I asked, slightly worried.

 

“No, sir.” Came the response, with all the warmth of a slight breeze in the North Pole. The soothing Jeevesian hands had stopped administering their balm and I got the impression Jeeves was looking for an excuse to leave the bedroom.

 

That simply would not do. One cannot have a disgruntled valet, if disgruntled is the word I want. Which I don’t think it is, actually. This wasn’t like when he was ticked off with me for buying a particularly natty tie. No, if I were to hazard a guess I would say that Jeeves was showing all the classic signs of an emotional upset, brought about by one Betram Wooster.

 

The old onion wasn’t quite firing on all cylinders, and if one’s honest it’s hardly the most powerful thing when it is, but I was going to have to thrash this out, somehow.

 

“Did I say something to upset you, when I was out of it, Jeeves? Because honestly, you can’t take any of the rot I say to heart.”

 

“I am aware, sir.” Arctic winds, once again.

 

“Honestly, Jeeves, I once caught a chill while at school, I was convinced the Matron was a camel! Illness makes me loopy. Well, loopier.”

Not even a twitch of the lips. If anything, Jeeves seemed to draw in on himself more, as if everything I was saying was making the situation worse, not better. I really was becoming alarmed and I opened my mouth to express as much when a sudden coughing fit overtook me.

 

Instantly there was a large hand rubbing my back and a cool glass of water at my lips. I drank deeply, for the first time becoming aware just how raw my throat felt. Either I had been coughing up a storm this last week or I’d chattered enough to render an entire herd of donkeys bereft of their hind legs.

 

“I shall prepare your dinner if you feel well enough to eat, sir.”

 

I narrowed my eyes over the rim of the glass, realizing that Jeeves was taking advantage of my inability to speak. Quick as a still slightly feverish fox I grasped his wrist, barring his exit. I lowered the glass and gave him a stern look.

 

“Dash it, Jeeves, don’t go biffing off in a sour mood, we need to sort this out. Now, if I’ve done something I need to apologise for, please tell me. I dislike it when you’re... less sang-whatsit than usual.”

 

“Sanguine, sir.” he replied, but made no further effort to speak. Once again he was doing a class act of avoiding my searching gaze as he was staring at my fingers encircling his wrist.

 

Suddenly I had a disquieting flash of insight. Surely I’d had the self preservation not to declare my innermost desires to Jeeves? Horror gripped me at that thought and my stomach roiled. I snatched my hand away from his arm and began babbling like the proverbial brook.

 

“I mean to say, Jeeves, if I said something that went against your feudal spirit or made you feel uncomfortable then I can only offer my most sincere apologies. And if I said anything which might land a chap in a position of doing five years hard labour on His Majesty’s pleasure then I swear I would never act on-”

 

Well, by this point I suppose I looked like the most pitiable creature on the face of the planet. Not only was I shaking like a leaf in an autumnal storm my eyes also appeared to have sprung a leak. Merely the idea that I had managed to ruin absolutely everything with a few careless, unguarded words when I’d spent years, _years_ , hiding all I felt for him, was utterly mortifying.

 

Jeeves, being the naturally caring chap he is, hastened to calm the young master with a gentle hand placed on the quivering shoulder, quelling my blithering.

 

“Sir, you told me you loved me.”

 

Well, I mean to say. Comforting? Pish tosh, it was like a punch to the gut.

 

I could not, for the very life of me, stop shaking. Perhaps I wasn’t quite as well as I thought. Or perhaps the very foundations of my life were being rocked to the core and I was merely reflecting this with physical spasms, like some sort of living metaphor.

 

“I’m... I’m sorry, Jeeves, I would never- surely you know I would never-” The next thing I knew my face was being cupped in warm, strong hands and I was looking into the slightly blurry face of my valet. His thumbs wiped gently at the moisture dribbling down my cheeks.

 

“Did you mean it, sir?” he asked.

 

There was something in his voice, something almost desperate, like he was pleading with me to be honest.

 

“Yes.” I replied, because I simply could not lie to him. “But Jeeves I would never-”

 

I was stopped from saying anything further, as my face was pressed firmly against Jeeves’ broad shoulder, his arms winding around my ribs like I was some sort of precious commodity he did not wish to be parted from.

 

“Oh, sir, oh thank God.” he whispered, cradling the back of my head, his fingers carding through my hair. I can’t say how enjoyable the experience was for him considering as the Wooster hair hadn’t had a decent wash in a week, but it felt dashed wonderful on my end.

 

“You have spent the last week extolling my virtues, meagre as they are, sir. And to have you waken and declare I should not dwell on anything you had said... I apologise if I seemed abrupt, sir, but to be offered one’s greatest desire only to have it snatched away...” He trailed off and held me tighter.

 

To say I was surprised would be an understatement. I would have been less shocked if Jeeves had declared he’d become engaged to Madeline Basset and was going to spend the rest of his life mooning over rabbits and toadstools.

 

All this bewilderment had rendered Bertram speechless for a matter of minutes, as I was completely incapable of saying anything, yet alone anything intelligent. This, however, led to Jeeves reaching rummy conclusions of his own.

 

“Sir?” He drew away from me slightly. “Sir, I haven’t...misread your meaning, have I?” Fear swept over his map like a storm cloud on a summer’s day.

 

“No! Lord, no, Jeeves.” Daringly, I reached out and smoothed his furrowed brow with my fingertips. “I’m simply amazed, that’s all.”

 

He smiled, not a broad, sunny thing, but a sweet and genuine curl of the lips, rather like the one which had graced his features when he’d seen me wake. Jeeves was handsome devil most of the time but when he smiled he was utterly devastating. To think I was the one who had helped to produce that expression was astounding.

 

“Believe me, sir, I know the feeling.”

 

He was still stroking my hair and I was beginning to feel like a very lucky housecat. At the same time, a wave of embarrassment was cresting as I realised the sheer amount of secret thoughts I could have revealed to him.

 

I leant forward and buried my face in his neck before I dared to ask him what I had said whilst I was addled out of my brains with fever. Jeeves chuckled lightly and I  found myself savouring this new sound.

 

“As I say, sir, you spent much of the time telling me how much you admired my mind and what you called ‘my chivalrous nature’.”

 

Well, that didn’t sound too bad.

 

“Is that really all I said?

 

“You were also most complimentary of my physical form, sir.  You seemed particularly set on being allowed to, well... lick certain parts of my anatomy as soon as you were well again.”

 

Being pressed fully against his body I could feel his heart rate quicken. My own heart was in danger of punching its merry way out of my chest and only increased its efforts when our eyes met.

 

“Oh, yes?” I said lightly.

 

“Indeed, sir.” He replied, in a voice I’d never heard before. A deep growl which did shockingly thrilling things to my knees.

 

Before I had time to catch my breath Jeeves set about stealing it away again by finally leaning in and kissing me. It was a sweet yet utterly certain meeting of lips which soon became an all consuming fire.  I had meant to keep our first kiss a light affair, yet I could not hold back years of desire and it seemed Jeeves was in a similar state; his tongue slicking against my own as if we’d kissed thousands of times before.

 

Delirious minutes of pure pleasure must have passed before we parted, panting deeply. One of my hands had ended up in Jeeves’ hair, which was now in complete disarray and I was straddling the man’s lap as if it were a saddle and I a very enthusiastic jockey. Suffice to say it had been a most satisfying first kiss. I found myself laughing, sheer happiness suffusing my entire body.

 

“Sir, I love you.”

 

I looked down at him (the saddle like position giving me a bit of elevation) and smiled, feeling that I might actually explode from the joy bubbling through me.

 

“Well, yes, you’d better if you’re going to keep kissing me like that.”

 

I was treated to another of those sweet, open smiles. I feared I was in danger of becoming addicted to them. 

 

As much as I wanted to savour the moment I was beginning to feel fatigued, thanks to the lingering strains of my illness.  Jeeves, of course, noticed that I was attempting to stifle a yawn.

 

“You should rest, sir.”

 

“Stay with me?”

 

“Of course.” I smiled into his hair at the omission of the ‘sir’. We stayed wound around each other, me sitting in his lap for a short while, simply enjoying the closeness we’d so long denied ourselves.

 

“Jeeves?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Wish I’d caught a fever sooner.”

His quiet laughter filled the entire bedchamber.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Another thing I posed on Indeed, Sir a while back. Feedback is welcome and delightful.


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